


It's a Spun Tongue

by orphan_account



Series: Meteor Crush [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:05:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4723610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa gets haircuts more often than anyone should. </p><p>Maybe she's crushing on her hair stylist.</p><p>Previously titled "The Salon"</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's a Spun Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblin' at pocketfullofgold6 as well
> 
> Previoulsy "The Salon"
> 
> Title from "A Million Years" by Alexander

Lexa is standing in her bathroom brushing her teeth when her phone lights up with a notification. She fumbles with it for a moment, bringing it close to look at the screen with her still sleepy eyes. The screen reads, “Reminder: Haircut 6pm.”

That information brings a smile to Lexa’s lips that is rare, especially this early in the morning. She knows she has a long day ahead of her reviewing cases and hunting down obscure legal information. That is the price that is paid for being the youngest lawyer at the firm. But now that she has this to look forward to, the day seems more hopeful.

Maybe Lexa should explain. She might have a crush on her hair stylist. . . She definitely has a crush on her hair stylist. The blonde woman, Clarke, is just so beautiful and sweet and genuine. Lexa feels very at ease around her, which is fairly unusual, especially with hair stylists. Lexa used to find the whole process rather loathsome, making awkward small talk while the person cuts her hair and invades her personal space could be classified as one of her least favorite activities. Talking to Clarke though, Lexa could get used to that. She had gotten used to it in fact, because she had begun scheduling more appointments than were strictly necessary.

With happy thoughts of Clarke in her mind, Lexa completes her morning routine (she may take a little extra care in selecting her wardrobe today, but she’s certain that the gray slim fit trousers and muted green blouse look good on her) and strolls out the door.

* * *

 

Damn it! She’s going to be late. Lexa huffs and shifts impatiently in her seat. She check the time on her phone again: 5:58 PM. She’s going to be at least ten minutes late. Her bosses had kept her longer than usual, going over the details of a new case with a fine tooth comb. It had been the longest hour of her life and now she would be late. Damn it.

The subway squeals to a stop at her station and she rushes out, pushing past other people and hurrying out onto the street. She sets a brutal pace in her heels, but she’s too anxious to slow down. She’s too anxious to see Clarke to slow down. A little out of breath and with aching feet, Lexa pushes through the door to the hair salon. She glances at the time: 6:13 PM. Late, damn it!

She approaches the desk where two women sit, Raven and Octavia, Lexa is pretty sure, and says, “I’ve got an appointment with Clarke. I’m a little late.”

Before either can respond, a cheerful voice chirps, “Oh, Lexa! You made it. I was starting to think you’d stood me up.”

Lexa’s head jerks to the right and she gets her first glimpse of Clarke. God, this woman gets more beautiful every time Lexa sees her. She’s wearing a lovely, blue, flowing tank top today and some wonderfully tight, high waisted, black jeans. Clarke’s eyes are sparkling and when she catches Lexa eye, she winks.

Lexa’s heart stutters in her chest, but she manages to get out, “Yes, I know. My bosses kept me late. It’s lovely to see you, Clarke.” That last part comes out quite a bit softer than Lexa had anticipated.

Still Lexa can’t regret it, as it draws a gorgeous smile to Clarke’s lips while she tilts her head towards the back of the salon. “Come on then. Let’s get you going.”

Lexa swallows and gives a short nod, making her way towards Clarke. She has entirely forgotten the existence of Raven and Octavia, who are sharing knowing smirks.

As is customary now, Clarke begins by complimenting Lexa’s hair. “You’re my favorite customer, you know. You have the most wonderful hair. It’s exquisite, luxurious, resplendent. My other customers just can’t compete with these gorgeous locks.”

“So you’ve told me before,” Lexa replies, a little bit pleased. She knows she has rather good hair, it often attracts compliments, but it’s nice to hear it from Clarke.

Clarke reaches out and grasps Lexa’s forearm, drawing her further back into the salon. Lexa’s skin is sparking against Clarke’s fingers. Clarke guides Lexa into the chair and tilts her back so that her hair is in the sink ready to be washed. Anticipation builds in Lexa’s stomach. This is undoubtedly her favorite part, aside from talking to Clarke. She loves the way Clarke massages shampoo into her hair and drags her fingers along her scalp. She absolutely has not ever imagined Clarke washing her hair for her while they share a shower.

“So, tell me about your day. How was work?” Clarke encourages, as she starts up the water and soaks Lexa’s hair.

The mention of work has Lexa sighing and grumbling. Clarke chuckles, “I’ll assume it isn’t going well then.”

“My bosses have been particularly long winded and boring of late” Lexa explains. “I really love the law and practicing law, but parts of the job can be rather tedious sometimes.”

Lexa hears Clarke open the shampoo bottle and a shiver of excitement runs down Lexa’s spine. As Clarke answers, her fingers dig into Lexa’s scalp thoroughly working the shampoo in, “I can understand that. Some clients have subpar hair and it's no fun to cut it. You’ve spoiled me.”

Just as Lexa opens her mouth to reply, Clarke’s nails scratch along her scalp and Lexa releases an involuntary whine. A second later Clarke is back to massaging and Lexa groans in pleasure. When Lexa registers the noises she just made, her eyes fly open (she hadn’t even noticed when they’d closed) and her ears flush a deep red.

Clarke, for her part, continues to wash Lexa’s hair, but there’s a bit of a pleased smirk on her lips. “Looks like I’ve spoiled you too, if those are the sounds you’re making.”

Lexa’s ears flush even darker red.“It’s really cute, the way you blush with your ears,” Clarke observes. By now, she’s rinsed out the shampoo and is moving on to conditioner.

Lexa barely manages to make a muffled squeak of protest. This is the moment at which she decides to never get a haircut again. She’ll just cut it herself. There’s no way she can risk any further mortification.

Understanding that Lexa hasn’t quite recovered, Clarke finishes washing Lexa’s hair humming along to the music on the radio, but not making any further attempts at conversation. By the time Clarke has gotten Lexa over to her station and settled in her chair, Lexa has mostly stopped wishing she could be buried alive.

Clarke combs out Lexa’s hair as she asks, “Just a trim as usual then?” There’s a playful, knowing grin at the edges of Clarke’s lips and in her husky voice.

It takes a second for Lexa to register her words and another second for Lexa to be able to respond. “Yeah-” Her voice cracks so she swallows and tries again, “Yes, just a trim.” She adds hastily, “I worry about split ends,” to try to justify her overly frequent visits to the salon.

“Excellent.” Clarke finishes untangling Lexa’s hair and grabs her scissors. “So have you done anything fun lately besides work? I know you need to get out of your apartment more, Lexa.”

Lexa’s eyes focus on Clarke in the mirror, admiring the way she cutely scrunches her nose as she concentrates. She starts to respond, but finds her mind ineffectually occupied by thoughts of Clarke. She can’t see past her softly curled golden hair, that cute freckle just above her lip, her shimmering blue eyes. Lexa is the most useless gay who has ever existed.

“Come on, Lexa. Don’t tell me you’ve only been holed up in your apartment eating take out and watching documentaries.” Clarke prods further.

“Um, no. No. I’ve uh - I’ve spent time with Anya.” Lexa defends. Clarke quirks an eyebrow skeptically so Lexa continues, “I went out to a bar last weekend.” She doesn’t mention that she only stayed for half an hour before retreating to her apartment for Netflix and wine.

Clarke tuts suspiciously, but drops the issue. She is taking rather more time than is necessary to trim millimeters off of Lexa’s split end free hair.

Lexa loses her breath as she watches Clarke suck her bottom lip into her mouth. She’s noticed this incredibly attractive habit of Clarke’s before. Clearing her throat and briefly dragging her eyes away from Clarke, Lexa asks, “What have you been up to?”

That brief moment when her eyes aren’t on the blonde allows her to catch, out of the corner of her eye, Raven and Octavia huddled close and shamelessly observing her and Clarke. By this time most of the activity in the salon has died down and Lexa is one of three customers who remain, so Raven and Octavia have the leeway to creepily watch them. Lexa tries valiantly to ignore them while she focuses back on Clarke.

“Well, I got a lot of painting done this weekend. I think my work is really improving. It feels good.” As an afterthought she adds, “Raven and Octavia also dragged me out for karaoke.”

Lexa smiles softly, she adores the passion that lights Clarke’s eyes when she talks about painting. “I would love to see your paintings sometime,” she says, gentle. She continues more playfully, “I would also love to hear you sing. You have a lovely voice, I’m sure.”

Clarke’s cheeks pinken as she circles in front of Lexa. “Thank you. Maybe one day I’ll bring a painting in. I make no promises on the singing though.”

Clarke reaches out and delicately cups Lexa’s face, tilting her head down to make sure she’s cut Lexa’s hair evenly. The position brings her cleavage directly into Lexa’s line of sight. Perhaps Clarke lingers in that position longer than is really appropriate. Lexa tries to avert her eyes, but there’s nowhere else to look. Is it just her or has Clarke been wearing progressively more low-cut tops?

Mercifully, Clarke pulls away before Lexa implodes. She doesn’t comment on the fact that Lexa’s ears have once again turned beet red. “Alright, we’ve just got to blow dry your hair and you’ll be good to go.”

Blow drying Lexa’s hair is a lengthy process because she has so much hair. It’s also a frustrating process for Lexa because she can’t make conversation with Clarke over the noise of the hair dryer. Still she soaks up every bit of Clarke that she can in the mirror. They keep briefly locking eyes throughout the ordeal.

Finally, Clarke shuts off and stores the hair dryer, before removing the black cape covering Lexa. After stowing it away, she leans casually back against the counter, fixing her gaze on Lexa. “So I’ll see you again in a couple weeks?”

They maintain intense eye contact as Lexa slips out of the chair. She doesn’t know exactly what changes for her in that moment, perhaps it is the knowing tone of Clarke’s voice, but she finds herself murmuring, “Will you go on a date with me, Clarke?”

A easy, glowing smile touches Clarke’s lips and crinkles the corners of her eyes. “I would love to, Lexa.”

They both ignore the muffled scuffle that is Raven and Octavia pushing and shoving at each other.

Instead, they slowly make their way towards the front of the salon, exchanging contact information. Then they find themselves lingering just inside the door, unwilling to part quite yet.

Finally Lexa whispers, “I’ll call you tomorrow, Clarke.”

She starts to push open the door. Clarke draws her back with a hand on her arm, kissing her cheek, and breathes, “I look forward to it.”

Soon after, Lexa is reluctantly out the door, floating on a cloud as she makes her way home.


End file.
